Book of Loss
by SparrowEverlark
Summary: A book written to keep those who were lost, alive. A task set to help heal wounds both old and new.
1. Prologue

**Writers notes:  
****If you have not read the third book in the hunger games trillogy then this will be a HUGE spoiler. Just a friendly warning. I plan to write this as a story within a story. Its about How Katniss and Peeta grew back together while writing the book together about their lost friends and loved ones. Each chapter (Not including the first) will be based on each person within the book. Hope you all enjoy it and please leave me a review so I know what you think!****  
**

**Thank you!**

**-SparrowEverlark.**

I sat there, unblinking as I watched the pile of paper sitting before me, as if waiting for it to start dancing or do a trick of some kind. Nothing happen but I was far from ready to pick up a piece and start on my task. I thought it would be a good idea at first. A way to keep the memory of all those who were lost to me from dying off for good. A Book of Loss so that My father, Finnick, Rue... Prim.. Would live on forever for others to learn of their story and their sacrifice to help get Panem where it is now.

"Where do you want to start, Katniss?" His voice breaks me from my haze. I forgot he was sitting there, silent and waiting for me to have my moment with no intention of interrupting.

"Peeta.. I don't know. Maybe at the start. My father would be the easiest..." I say softly. My father has been dead for so long I assume he would be the easiest for me to write. I've had much more years to come to terms with his death that it doesn't bother me so much to discuss it with people now. I watch as Peeta sets to getting his art supplies ready before he looks to me.

"Ready?"


	2. Bartlet Everdeen

**Writers notes:  
Just letting everyone know that my chapters are going to be based mostly on each indervidual featured in Peeta and Katniss' book.  
Bartlets are a type of pear. I wanted to keep Katniss' dads name in the whole plant sort of family like Katniss and Prims names.**

**Please review!**

**-SparrowEverlark  
I own nothing in this story other then the Original names "Ambersons, Thisledens and Kinnimonths" I make no money off this story and only write it for my own personal pleasure and to get the ideas out of my head and make room for new ones.**

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"Ready?"

He said it so calmly. Like nothing could bother him. I knew different though. He still has moments. Still has episodes. I think the time we have been spending together has been good for him too, not just me. He has been spending nights at my house as of lately. My nightmares haven't been near as bad as they were. He would paint and I would sit by the fire and watch him, the light glowing over him, giving him an otherworldly look.

I take a deep breath, reaching over to the paper pile and take a couple sheets _"Ready?" _Was I? No better time like the present I guess. I take another breath, taking the pen in my hand and pressing the tip to the paper. Where do I start? For so long I had my father to myself. Was I ready to share him now? Without thinking to much more on it, I let the pen take over my thoughts for me:

**"Bartlet Everdeen:  
**Bartlet was a father anyone would want to have. He taught me to hunt, swim, forage. If it were not for him and the lessons he taught me while alive, I would not have been here today. He was a tall, broad shouldered man with the gentlest of souls. I can remember the first time he took me out to teach me to hunt. He shot a rabbit and I got upset. He taught me that life came with the rabbits death, it would ensure that my family would be able to survive for another day.

He would go to work in the mines, come home at the end of every day, covered in coal dust and always have time for my sister and me. Looking back when I was younger, I always thought my father could do anything! He could kill and skin a rabbit and he could tie the smallest of ribbons in his daughters hair. He had a booming voice but everyone would stop to listen -even the birds- when he sang. He was always the level headed one, able to talk down any negative situation.

It was with a heavy heart that we had to say good bye to him when we did. A few other families lost loved ones that day. The Hawthorns lost a father too. So did the Ambersons and the Thisledens. The Kinnimonths lost their eldest sons in the blast. We tried to remind ourselves that we weren't the only ones who lost.. But it was hard."

I have to stop there as I look at the words. My father had been many things to my family. "I don't think I did him justice. It doesn't feel right." I say to a silent Peeta as he listened to my reread.

"I think it sounds fine. He would be very proud of what you said about it." He offers me a smile before taking the page from me before I have a chance to scrunch it up "Before I paint him, I will draw him out so that we can get him spot on."

I nod my head silently as I think about my father, his black hair, grey eyes, the way his face would wrinkle around his mouth and eyes with age when he smiled. I relay it all to Peeta, every little detail I can remember of him right down the the smallest of freckles on his nose. Only once I give Peeta the okay -once I am looking at my fathers face once more- does he start to add the colours, giving life to the drawing. It always marvelled me how he could do that. Take something dull and breathe into it a life it could never possibly posses. I could watch Peeta paint for hours on end but after an hour and a half, he is done.

By the time we have finished, we don't bother lighting a fire in the fire place and laying in front of it for warmth like normal. We simply make our way upstairs to my room, get changed -me in my bedroom, Peeta in the bathroom- and curl up together in my bed. It doesn't take long for sleep to claim us both.

I wake to the sound of my own screams, crying out for my father when he doesn't come out of the mines battered but alive like so many others have already. Peeta is there already calming me before I notice with soft "its okays" and "its not reals" and a couple "Its just a dream" I hear him and I know he is right but I can't help the feeling. The fear that rockets through my body. It doesn't feel quite as bad as the dreams about father had before.

Maybe the good Doctor was on to something when he encouraged my idea of this book...


	3. Cinna

**I own nothing but any new characters, I make no money on this story, just write for my own pleasure.**

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I'm woken by the tight grip of Peetas hands on my arms, my grey eyes snapping open to find his blue hues looking down at me with nothing but Anger and hatred. For a moment I fear I'm about to die before I notice it, the little spark in his eyes telling me he is fighting hard at this episode. He is still in there.

I sit up slowly, finding no real resistance in his tight hold "Its okay Peeta. I'm here. It's not real. Come back to me" I lean forward and press my lips to his gently and soon enough his tight hold starts to loosen up bit by bit.

"Katniss..." His voice sounds strained.. He was having a hard time and still didn't want to bother me.. I give him a small smile, reaching up to cup his left cheek in my right hand, thumb running over the smooth skin below it.

We say nothing more for the rest of the night as he curls back up around me under the covers, his arms holding me a little closer and tighter than normal but it doesn't bother me. It takes us both a little longer to slip back into sleep but eventually we do.

The morning is dull for this time of year, the smell of rain in the air but I don't think it has started to fall yet. The air is warm as it flows from the open window, the day mimicking how I and I'm sure Peeta feel. I shift my body to sit up but find nothing but warm resistance and a pair of strong arms holding me in place against an equally strong chest "Stay here. I'm not ready to get up yet. Stay with me" His voice is low and horse and ringing with sleep. I roll on my side to face him, resting my head on his chest. His body shifts to rest on his back, an arm resting under his head, blue eyes watching me, none of the anger or hate in them that was there last night.

"Peeta. We need to eat." I offer him a small smile. I know he is still suffering from his hallucination last night but I know he couldn't help it and no harm was really done. "How about you stay here and I will go make us some breakfast? Then we can curl up in bed."

"You are going to make breakfast? Are you sure you don't want me to help you?" He just looks at me. I can make breakfast. I had to do it for my mother and sister all the time.. Prim... I pinch my eyes shut for a split moment. I don't want my memories of her to hit me yet. Its to early in the morning for that. I sit up, crossing my arms over my chest, the smug look on Peetas face making anger rise in me but I push it aside. Better the smug look then the pained one only moments before.

"Yes I'm sure I don't need you to help me. I did it for my mother and Prim all the time back in the old district 12" I try to feign anger and hurt but he sees right through it, knowing my emotions better than even I do. He pulls me down to him before planting a light kiss to my lips. I kiss back then stand and make my way out of the room and down stairs to the kitchen.

I sigh as I wait for the eggs to boil. Waiting. I hate sitting around and waiting.. When waiting for a wild turkey or a rabbit to come by in the woods that's one thing. I'm still being productive in my waiting but now, I'm just standing in the kitchen waiting for eggs to boil. I hum the tune to 'hanging tree' softly as my grey eyes scan about the kitchen coming to rest on the box of parchment and the start of our book, my eyes lurking on the image of my father, beautifully painted by Peeta the night before. Can I bring myself to make a new entry for the book today?

The little 'ding' rings, signalling the eggs are ready, drawing my attention back from the paper and back to the task that pulled me away from a warm bed and an even warmer Peeta. I turn back to the stove, removing the pot and resting it aside for now before setting to cooking what one would almost think was a half a pigs worth of bacon (It was more about twelve slices but they were strangely on the large side) Since the rebuild of District 12 had started and we had started growing our own food, everyone including the animals were eating better then we had before the rebellion. I guess I should write Plutarch and President Paylor and send my thanks for the current residents of District 12.. Maybe some other time. Once the bacon is ready, I lightly toast a couple of slices of bread Peeta made yesterday before putting them on a plate and setting everything on a tray as well as a pot of peppermint tea and two mugs to make transporting it all up stairs a little easier on my part. Before leaving the kitchen I make sure to grab up a handful of parchment from the box from Dr. Aurelius, tucking it under my arm.

Once upstairs, I push the door open as carefully as I can, trying hard not to let the tray over balance and end up with my shabby looking breakfast all over the floor. As I enter, I can't help the small smile that pulls at the corners of my lips. He always looked so peaceful when he slept. I don't have the heart to wake him. I set the tray and the paper down on the bedside table before carefully crawling under the comforter beside him. I rest my head back on his chest, Peeta having not moved from the way I left him. His arms wrap around me, nose and lips nuzzling there way into my hair "Smells good, Love" Love. He hadn't used the term of endearment for a while. He only started using it again a couple days ago. You never notice how much you like something until you stop hearing it.

"I'm sorry" I say. "I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep."

"Its okay, I wasn't sleeping. Just thinking" he replies.

"About?" I didn't mean to come across as prying. It was none of my business what he was thinking about. Even together, we both still have a right to some sort of privacy. Even if it is simply our thoughts.

He sits his pillows up, inclining his body to sit as I sit the tray down between us a little, handing him a plate and letting him take what he wanted. "Its nothing important. I smelt the bacon cooking and couldn't help thinking about how things have changed since Panem rebelled against Snow. Everyone in District 12 is eating better than before.. We can all live a longer life now then we ever hoped back before the rebellion.."

I can't help but give a small chuckle "I had similar thoughts while down stairs. Hopefully things will continue to be this good for all of us once the population starts to thicken up more." There was still only a hundred or so of us back in District 12 but with every new day that greeted us so did more familiar faces. Coming back to help rebuild their homes and their lives.

Peeta notices the parchment sitting on the drawers beside me, giving his head a little nod as he chews then swallows his mouthful of bacon "You want to write a new page today?"

I follow his blue gaze to the pile and give a small, unsure nod before looking back to the tray and pouring myself some tea "I was thinking we might do Cinna today... We both knew him well enough that I don't think it will take much thinking for you to paint him or for me to write about him.." I give a small sigh _I **hope** I wont have to think to much about him. _

Peeta gives a small nod, already another mouthful of bacon. "Okay. But lets take a nap before we start. I'm still feeling a little run down after last night"

I thought he would be. I stuff a spoonful of boiled egg into my mouth, chewing then swallowing as I give a nod "That's more then fine with me." Its not often that he tells me he isn't feeling to good after a hallucination. Its not often he tells me anything after an episode so I know last night must have been bad for him.

When we finish eating there is nothing but a less then half full pot of cold tea and a slice of stale toast is left -the toast will go to Haymitches geese when we go to check on him later- and the tray is once again resting atop the drawers beside the bed. My head is once again, resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart and I know we will be okay one day. His arms wrap around me, almost as if protecting me from the empty room. Did he imagine he was protecting me from himself? Peeta slipped away into the land of sleep about a quarter of an hour ago and I feel myself ever so slowly slipping away to follow him.

I wake first, Peeta still sleeping away silently. If it weren't for the rise and fall of his chest with each breath I would start to panic that he may have died in his sleep. Lightly, I run the tips of my fingers over his face across his eyebrows, over the bone of his cheek and across his warm, soft lips that I find so much comfort in.

"You should be writing" comes his groggy voice.

"I know.." I know I should have started. Peeta knew what Cinna looked like but it was me who knew him deeply. He was my dear friend, not just my stylist assigned to me by the capitol to get me looking my best to die. It just feels better having Peeta there with me while I write. There to keep my mind clear from the storm that starts to brew when ever I think of all our fallen friends and loved ones.

I clench my hands then relax them a couple of times, almost as if getting them ready for heavy lifting. I reach over, carefully removing everything from the tray and setting it in my lap before reaching back for a piece of parchment and a pen. I take a deep breath before letting the pen scratch at the paper as neatly as I can.

**"Cinna:**

It was Cinnas Job to make me look my best at all times and he did so perfectly. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have been the symbol I am today. It was Cinna that made me the Mockingjay. No matter where I was, or what I was doing It was thanks to Cinna and his team that I looked the part every time.

I started out as nothing more then a tribute, sent to the Capitol to prepare for a bloodbath in the name of entertainment for the residents who could pay the higher prices. Cinna was no more then someone whose job it was to dress mutton as lamb.. He would be the Capitols undoing. His girst task was making me the 'girl on fire' something I don't think I will ever forget. Something I don't think anyone will ever forget.

He would write to me often after the 74th games, keep me updated on what was going on in the capitol, what new clothing he was working on. My letters back to him were never as entertaining but he never said anything. In a way I think it a little funny that with all our letters and even phone calls back and forth, I still do not know his surname and now I never will.

I had no idea that the dress that was chosen to be my wedding gown had been altered to change into that of a Mockingjay, the symbol of the rebellion. The symbol President Snow feared the most. I watched, locked in a tube awaiting the start of the quarter quell as Cinna was beaten to a bloody pulp by peacekeepers sent by Snow in an attempt to take back the power he knew was slipping from his fingers like dry sand, trying to use my dearest friend against me.

I can still remember the last words he said to me 'Remember, I'm still betting on you, Girl on Fire.' and they still give me courage on days when I need him.

I put my pen down. Unable to think of much else to say. Just like the entry for my father, I feel I have done no where near the justice that Cinna deserves but I feel better, knowing people will know the truth about how he died. Not just something the new politics of Panem will tell.

An hour or so after dinner, after the dishes are done, I am left alone in front of the roaring fire while Peeta vanishes up the stairs. He comes back less then ten minutes later with a piece of paper in his hands. Its a picture of a news paper clipping. An obituary someone put in in his memory. I smile, getting up from my nest of blankets and going to join his picture with his page.

Now I feel at ease. Cinna will live on so long as this book is around.

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Holy cow! This is my longest chapter yet! Its longer then my last two chapters together.. TWICE.  
As always guys, please review. Let me know what you think of my story so far of it there is something you don't like about it. There is no bad review. Well thats a lie but you get my point!  
Thanks again!  
-SparrowEverlark


	4. Mags

**Writers Note:  
I may be writing a chapter or two from Peeta's point of view. Still haven't made up my mid yet as I am not one for stories that switch characters.. Not to name any specificly *sneezetwilightsneeze* We will see how I feel about it when the time comes for those chapters to arise.  
Story is Un-beta read, anny mistakes are my own.  
As always, read and review. Would love to know what you all think of this thing so far.  
-SparrowEverlark.**

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Peeta and I sigh, looking at the fancy stationary sitting in front of us. One of us needs to write to Annie in the hopes of getting photos for our book of both Mags and Finnick. We know it is a touchy subject for the young mother and neither of us wishes to be the one to upset her frail mind. It would mess with two lives if that were to happen, Her little boy needs her to much.

After what felt like a life time (but was only two hours) Peeta reaches for the parchment and a pen. He looks to me, I think he is hoping I will take the task from him but I feel he would be better for this, he was always so good with his words. Much better then me. The last time I tried to use my words to do something good, I had an elderly man killed.

I give Peeta a small nod, as if giving him permission to proceed in writing. My fingers wrap around his free hand as he takes the pen in his other, the tip starting to scribble against the parchment

"Dearest Annie,  
We hope you and your little one are doing well and hope to see you both soon. This is a hard task for us but we are in need of your help. Katniss and I are writing a book in hopes to keep the memories of those we all have loved and lost due to the games and the war alive. We would like to know if there would be any photos of Mags that we may be able to use for a page of her.."

His voice trails off for a moment, reading out loud as the pen works its magic. He looks up at me, tilting his head a little, his other hand squeezing at my fingers a moment before going back to the task at hand.

"We would also like it if we could get a photo of Finnick to also to the book. We know this must be a hard thing to ask of you and we do not want to cause you any pain in any way. We just feel that they both have a right to be remembered for their sacrifices they made for the lives of others. If it is a task that is to hard for you to handle right now, we understand whole heartedly.  
We hope to hear from you soon.  
All our love and thoughts,  
Katniss and Peeta."

I give him a small smile when his blue eyes meet mine. As always the boy with the bread has come through and written something that everyone could be happy with. We just hope it is the right thing for Annie.

By the time we have finished our game of 'who will write the letter that could destroy a young mother' and written it, its near midnight and both Peeta and I are close to falling asleep at the kitchen table. Peeta had been wanting to go to sleep early the last few nights and nights to follow due to helping with the rebuild of the Mellark Bakery.

We had talked about the name of the bakery for days, with me suggesting things along the lines of "Peeta's bread" and other silly little puns one day to distract him after a small episode he had had. It had worked. He tried to claim that they were horrible names for the bakery (and they were) but I could tell what ever his episode was about had long left his mind. One night, out of the blue he told me he was going to keep the name 'Mellark Bakery' in memory of his family, his way of remembering them in a positive, pro-active way.

The night passes us by rather uneventfully. I have no nightmares and Peeta gets a full night sleep himself.

The following morning, I wake to find that Peeta has already left for the bakery leaving me a hearty meal of oatmeal, toast and a cup of mint tea. Still warm, meaning I may have only just missed him.

Our letter to Annie sits, tucked in its envelope and resting on the table, addressed and ready for posting, along with a small note from Peeta.

"Katniss,  
Sorry for not taking the letter to post myself this morning. Was worried I may forget about it or lose it while working on the bakery today.  
Enjoy breakfast. Hope you don't get bored without me. Maybe I will see you later today, if not then I will see you tonight.  
Take care,  
Peeta"

I can't help rolling my eyes playfully, even though I know he wont know it even happen, putting the note down. I eat the toast before it goes stale and sip on my tea. I haven't been much of an oatmeal person ever since leaving District 13.

After the dishes from breakfast are done, I take up the letter and head out the door, dropping it in the letter box to be collected before heading off towards the market. I stop by the bakery site and can't help but be surprised by the work that has already been done. The frame work is already all up and starting to be covered up. The front of the Bakery looks like a bakery again... Minus a window.

I make my way inside, even more surprised at just how much the building looks like a bakery. It doesn't take long to find Peeta, nailing up boards to a wall. I don't want to interrupt him, hard at work. I turn to head back out the way I came, not wanting to get in any ones way but his voice catches me off guard.

"Katniss, What are you doing her?" His voice starts to take on a panicked tone. "Did you have another nightmare? Do you want me to come home?" Thats the first time he has ever addressed it as home.

I shake my head with a small smile "No, I'm okay. Just heading to the woods, check on the snares, maybe do a bit of hunting. Just wanted to stop by and see how things are going... They are really going. Wont be to long before opening day."

He gives a small nod but looks unsure of himself. I don't stay long after that and decide to head off while the going is good. Peeta watches me from the doorway of the bakery before heading back to his little task.

The day after that speeds along rather fast. I spend most of the day hunting. The sun is only starting to touch the tops of the trees when I get back to the bakery. Peeta is no where to be found. Everything is fine, until someone tells me he left for home a couple hours before I got there. The panic starts to build in me. Why did he leave the bakery early? Was he hurt? Did he have another episode? If he was hurt, how bad was it?

He went home. Nothing else crosses my mind as I make a mad dash for the house we now seemed to share in the Victors Village. My catch of the day slung over my shoulder, being carelessly dumped at the front door as I look around the front room for him. Not on the couch. No scents of dinner in the air, so that ruled out the kitchen too. I make my way up the stairs, taking them two at a time and burst through the bedroom door. I find him resting, propped up by some pillows in the bed, everything looking fine.

"Hey Katniss. Good hunt today?" He sounds so casual.. Like nothing is wrong. Maybe nothing is wrong. Maybe I over reacted.

"I was told you came home early.. I was worried something was wrong. Are you okay?" I ignore his question. Need to put my mind at ease first. I continue to take him in from head to toe.

"I'm fine Katniss, Nothing to worry about, I just felt like the others could take care of things so I came home early. I had a bit of a head ache. Just working harder then my body has been use to." He still sounds so casual but I guess a head ache is nothing to really worry to much about. I make my way to the bed, sitting on the edge and kicking my boots off. I feel silly for having worried now.

I let Peeta rest in bed with a glass of water while I make a start on dinner, my mind running back to Annie and her son and how they are doing. She will get our letter tomorrow and I can't help worry about how she will react to it.

After dinner, Peeta and I sit in bed, parchment scattered about us as we look down at the single sheet resting on the tray in my lap. I chew the end of the pen, trying to think of something to write about the dear old lady from district 4, having some trouble on finding the right words.

**"Mags:**

I never got to really know this kind soul and it truly hurts deep down. My first impressions on Mags when we saw her on the replay of the reaping was simple. She's old, She wont make it for sure. And Now I am no where near happy to see I was right. She had volunteered for Annie Cresta, the female victor who was chosen for the Third Quarter Quell The first time I met Mags, She was making little fishing hooks in the training centre. She was off over by herself and I felt drawn to her. It was interesting to watch her fiddle with feathers, wire and other little bits and pieces, turning them into little works of art that would help one stay alive another meal.

I had offered her archery lessons in return for her teaching me how to make a fishing hook and it was right then that I hoped with everything I had in me that she would some how surprise everyone and survive.

Once we were all in the arena for the quarter quell it was soon proven that the mute old lady was a rather good swimmer but still needed the help of Finnick Odair in order to keep up with us younger tributes. When Peeta was unable to walk after we were attacked by a fog the capitol created (under President Snows rein) She had offered herself up so that Finnick would be free to carry Peeta.

Neither Peeta or myself will ever forget when Mags had given up for our survival and will forever be great-full to her and do anything we can to make sure the next generations after us will know of how she gave her life for Peeta to live."

I give a heavy sigh and look slowly over to Peeta, who had been quiet for some time while I read what the pen wrote. Peeta sat there, His blue eyes distant as if he wasn't sure of where he was. "Peeta. Come back to me. You are okay.. "

"Mags died because of me. I wasn't strong enough and needed Finnicks help and so she died..." He sounds broken... Like he did after his first episode after returning to District 12. I try to think about what I could say to some how make him feel better, but my mind draws a blank/ "Peeta.. She knew what she was doing when she walked into the fog. She made the choice to die for use to be able to get out of the arena and put an end to anyone else ever having to fight for the right to live in another Hunger Games. We did what she wanted of us. She didn't die for nothing."

He gives a small nod. I know he doesn't believe me and what I say. Its going to be a long night...

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Oh my god! So sorry to have kept you waiting. Here in sunny Australia we have had a random burst of summer heat wave after having a month of almost spring like weather. (Joys of Australia, it never knows what season it actually wants to be) Its been so hot that all I could think about was how to keep myself and my little girl from melting in the sweltering heat.  
It wasn't until about a day ago that I started to get my writing Ideas back. I'm really hoping that you guys like this chapter. Next one is going to be interesting. Hopefully it wont be as long of a wait.  
Please please PLEASE review. Its nice to know what people thing, even the negatives can help.


	5. Finnick Odair

**Writters note:**

**Due to over heating issues imma try posting via my little Samsung galaxy tab 2. Please bare with my while I wait for this summer heat wave to pass and can once again use my laptop with no fears.  
****Please read and review. Love love, love you all  
****-SparrowEverlark.**

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Two days after I posted our letter, Peeta and I got a reply from Annie. I got home from my hunt, a little after noon to find it sitting on the floor under the mail slot. It didn't seem right to open and read it without Peeta so I sat it on the kitchen bench before heading out to meet Peeta at the bakery.

In the short time it took, waiting for Annie's letter, the bakery had come along way (most thanks went to the many hands that were helping) All the outside had been erected and all the little finishing touches on construction were being done inside. It seemed like all of 12 was getting excited for the grand reopening of the Mellark Bakery. I think every able-bodied man had come to help Peeta build the bakery. All in all it had taken a little over a week to get it to the point it was at now. In another three or four days it would be built, painted stocked and ready for opening.

As I make my way up the path leading to the market, stones crunching under each footfall, a group of children run past, a cheerful "hey Katniss" and "hello Katniss" slipping from them, one little girl, a little smaller than the others stops, holding up a little purple flower. I smile before taking it from her, tucking it into the tie at the end of my braid. I reach down to the little flowers scatters on the sides of the path, plucking an equally small yellow bloom and gently place it in her ponytail. She gives me a smile before her little legs carry her off as fast as they can.

I continue on my way, stopping to take a moment to get a good look at the bakery exterior. It looks just as I remember from before... I take a breath, close my eyes and count to ten (I found it helps fend off the coldness I feel every time I let myself think of those we loved and lost) I walk through the door, the little bell ringing softly before calling out to Peeta. No answer. I call again with still no answer before i go look for him.

It's not long before i find him in the kitchen, alone, propped up against a wall, asleep. He had been having broken sleep, ever since we started sleeping in the same bed again and still found a way to get up at the crack of dawn, make breakfast for us both, write me a quick little note and be on his way for a full day of (what I can only guess was) non stop work. It had to be taking its toll on him by now. He should be gone all day then come home with enough tim to cook us some dinner.

I give a small sigh and curl up at his side, giving his cheek a small kiss before closing my eyes and listening to the sounds of construction go on around us. No more than three minutes after I settle back with him, he starts to stir, giving a small groan before his body shifts some. A small smile creeps to my lips at the sound of his tired, confused voice. "Katniss, what are you doing here? How long have you been here?"

"Nothing, wanted to see how things were coming along. Just got here." He looks so tired still. Barely able to keep his blue eyes open. I stand up before offering him my hand "come on. We're going home and you are going to bed." I give him no choice in the matter and don't leave it up for discussion. He knows this and takes my hand as i help his feet.

Once home I take him upstairs (the poor guy had tripped on two attempts on his own) and into the bedroom. Help him pull off his boots then get into bed. He is asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow.

Once alone,

I try to think of a way to ease Peetas load, at least at home. The first thing i could do is cook dinner tonight. I'm not much of a cook but I do know one thing I can cook and I know I can cook it well. Maybe Greasy Sae might teach me how to cook a few more meals if I ask nicely.

It's still to early to make any start on cooking so I take a small trip to check in on Haymitch. When we first told him of our 'book of the dead' he had been against it. "The dead are dead, just leave them that way! If they are meant to be remembered they will be!" He had bellowed at us. It had been two nights ago that he had come to us, asking to make a small contribution to our book. Peeta and I had agreed and gave him parchment before he went on his merry (drunken) way.

I push the door the door open, ignoring the stick that threatens to knock someone out one of these days, knowing he will be to passed out to answer. Given the smell of the place, the house looks rather clean. It's not until you step into the kitchen that it really hits you. This is where he does most of his drinking, bottles and food scraps both litter the floor, the table where he lays sleeping on a pillow made of his hands, the bench and even the half-open cupboards.

I notice the neat pile of parchment sitting, just out of direct reach of him and roll my eyes. It's not until I move closer to wake Haymitch that I notice the face on the top of the pile. I flip tough the stack and find he has done 16 other tributes that had died before Peeta and I. I sigh lightly to myself, no longer having the heart to wake him so I put the parchment back where I found it, save for the entries to the book Haymich has written before scribbling out a little note saying thank you and telling him he is welcome to come for dinner.

A little before sunset, im in the kitchen, getting a start on dinner when Peetas voice snaps me from my thoughts. My head snaps up, eyes locking on him. He looks better than he did before he went back to bed. He stands leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his broad chest as he smirks lightly. I raise my brow before going back to my task. I chop four potatoes into quarters as he moves to sit himself at the table "whats for dinner, Miss Everdeen?"

I roll my eyes a little as I put the potatoes in a dish along with some butter and salt "Food" He chuckles and I have to battle hard not to join us as i cover the potatoes and set them aside. "Roast wild pig leg and potatoes. It was something my father use to cook on weekends and special occations."

"You hunted a wild pig? That's amazing. Biggest thing you hunted for a while now" I nod lightly, it was true. Since I had been actively hunting again the biggest thing I had shot down was a young turkey. This pig was large. I had kept about half the meat for Peeta and I and given the rest to Greasy Sae to cook and sell. Even the half of the pig was more than enough for Peeta and myself but it would last us for at least a week. I had been rather proud of myself so had Peeta. "Watch out wildlife of the woods of District 12. Katniss Everdeen is back!"

It had been a small joke, a way of making light of our situation rather than to dwell. Some days (the ones we had trouble dealing with) we had simply.. gone away. "Thank you. Great to be back in District 12." I give a small bow before grabbing the letter from Annie and sitting down next to Peeta. "We got a reply this morning. I thought you would like to read it so I waited. Would you like to open it and start reading? I'll make us some tea." He gives me a nod and i get up to put the metal kettle on the stove to boil.

While I set up the mugs, dropping a tea bag (something we got attached to in the capitol) into our cups, sugar in mine, Peeta rips the envelope open and pulls out a little bundle. Three photos and a once white piece of parchment. I take the photos, looking at them, unable to help the small, sad smile as I run a finger lightly over first Mags then Finnicks faces. My smile brightens at the updated photo of Finnicks son. Its great being kept up to date with him. I sit down in my chair to listen to the letter.

"Dear Katniss and Peeta,  
It is nice to hear from you both. I think this book you are working on is a beautiful idea and I'm sure Mags and Finnick would be honored. I'm sorry you couldn't be here for their funerals, they were both lovely. 'Junior' is doing well. Looking more and more like his father every day. I am very proud of him. He cut his first tooth a week ago and can sit up all on his own, he even says "mama" now. All of district 4 loves him and we all work hard to make sure he knows who his daddy was.  
I hope the photos I sent you help you with your book. Thank you for keeping them alive in this way.  
Stay safe,  
Annie and Junior."

It's great to hear that Annie loves out book and that Junior I doing so well. Annie's sons name is Alec but with every passing day and every new photo of the little boy, he was looking more and more like Finnick. It was a joke to Annie that started the nickname an it seemed it had caught on with the whole of district 4..

I look up at Peeta, find him staring longingly at Juniors photo. My heart tightens a little. I clear my throat a little and go finish fixing our tea. Children were once a big thing to Peeta but not so much for me. We had spent our lives raised in a world where we had to sacrifice our children, once a year with the chance that we may never see them again. I didn't want to have to go through that. Children just weren't an option in my life. That life was over now. We no longer had to worry about the hunger games did we? But what about war? You couldn't guarantee anything when it came to war.

Dinner turned out to be rather successful with both Peeta and I going back for seconds. Haymitch never showed. I don't even know if he got my note I left him earlier in the day.

We sit in the front room, wrapped in the warmth of a blanket and the roaring fire. I tap my pen against the serving tray that has become our little portable desk. I know what I want to say but not how to say it. Peeta says to start from the start.

**Finnick** **Odair.**

I met Finnick on the tributes parade through the Capitol for the third quarter quell. He had offered me a sugar cube then asked to know my secrets. The handsome young man from District 4 had rubbed me the wrong way at first and I for one didn't see the big attraction everyone else did. It was hard to really trust someone who was that good-looking. Not to mention he was wearing nothing but a fishing net. But I remember hs eyes. The colour threaten to draw me in.

I got to know him a little better during training. It was more so because of Mags. After my first demonstration to Mags with my bow and arrow, he came to me, offering up trident lessons for archery. He was a horrible student , not very good at taking and following instruction but he was an amazing teacher.

I didn't want to make any friends but there was something about the quell that called for them and thanks to Haymitch, I had one.

I can't begin to list how much I owe him. He saved Peeta, twice. He became one of my dearest friends during our time in district 13, keeping me from losing my mind while I fretted over getting Peeta back safe and sound. And if it weren't for Finnick and his sacrifice, I would have never got to the capitol and put an end to everything.

My biggest regret is that Finnick was not able to see the birth of his little clone of a son, Alec or grow old with his beautiful wife. As a silent prayer to Finnick, I make sure to keep up to date with Annie on all things to do with their son and do my best to help in any way I can from District 12. They are family now. We were bought together by war, by loss and by love."

I close my eyes, using the back of my hand to wipe away a few stray tears, Peetas hand covering mine, his thumb lightly running over the back of my hand.

Peeta attached Mags and Finnicks photos to their pages while I take a shower, suddenly feeling drained. This book may be the death of me yet...

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Thank you to those who have left me a review. And to all of you returning to read the next chapter. If this is all over the place, I am so sorry. Im on a tiny tablet at the moment and because of such, it took two days to write and proof read to my best. The next few chapters may not have anything to do with the book but more to do with Peeta and Katniss.  
I also feel I may not be portraying the timeline of my tale very well. Let me know what you think.


	6. One of those days

**Writers note:  
To my dear readers, I am SO sorry for the slow updates, please bare with me! I'm hoping to be able to start posting a little more often soon. I have been busy with my other life commitments but things seem to me calming down now.  
As always please review!  
Now for something different.  
Love love love always!  
-SparrowEverlark.**

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The air is cold, a light breeze blowing about my face. The sun is trying to offer me as much of its heat as it can but the air is just that bit to cold. I pull my jacket about my a little tighter, as I lay as still as I can, hoping no one would be close enough to notice my movements. My leg is bleeding badly still and I can already tell there is some blood poisoning happening.

I hear the light splashing of feet in the river and close my eyes, not wanting anything to give away where I am. Hopefully they don't step on me. I try to slow my breathing down as much as much as I can, my body as still as humanly possible then I hear it. It must be the angels sent to gather me and take me with them. I hear it again. My name calling into the cool afternoon air and I can't help opening my eyes a little to look for the owner of the voice. Its a big risk but the sound is drawing me in. The voice is growing louder, its owner getting closer. The closer it gets the clearer the face of the owner becomes.

Katniss Everdeen.

My heart starts to beat a little harder in my chest, no longer beating with fear but hope. She's alive and she is here to help me. She calls my name again and I struggle to find my voice to answer her, I've been so quiet for so long. She calls again and again I can't find my voice. She's so close now. I can see her but she can't see me. _Katniss, I'm right here. Look down! _

I watch her come into view, my voice is starting to come back to me. I grab at her ankle, more to stop her from stepping on my head then anything else. She gives an small gasp before looking down. I can see the panic on her eyes, the fear in her eyes. My voice finally touches my lips, her name spilling over and I can't help but feel like the world is brighter.

She looks down at me, the fear in her eyes melting away to joy before she reaches down to help me up. The rock and dirt I plastered around my exposed body cracking away and releasing me from the earth. She wraps her arms around me the moment I'm to my feet, a hand coming up to tangle in my hair before giving a quick, hard snap of her wrist.

I gasp, my heart lodged and speeding in my throat as I try to fill my lungs with air. Where is she? She should be here. Is she waiting for me to finish what she started?! I scan the room with dilated blue eyes. The mutts not here. I'm safe for now.

I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, one is made of metal. She must have done this to me. I was lucky it was just my leg. I run my fingers over the cool metal before standing with ease. The sun is high, I have slept late.

I hear the front door open then close before I hear her voice, calling me once more. She's back and in my house. I stand at the foot of the bed and listen as she makes her way up the stairs and knocks lightly on the door. Polite even when about to kill me. This will go in my favour, not hers.

"Peeta, I'm back. Are you awake?" Everything is shimmery. Something doesn't feel right. I look about the room, looking for anything I can use as a weapon. The bed! The ends have large, fist sized knobs on them. I push and pull at one until it finally comes free, moving slowly to the door and pulling it open.

She stands there, her hair in a braid over her shoulder, decorated with twigs and leaves from the woods. She must have been hunting. I don't know how I know this, just that it seems to feel right. The feeling of unease returns as I look at her. There is something VERY wrong right now. She has a smile on her face, is she happy to kill me? No.. Happy to see me? She can't be. She's a mutt, made to kill me. She shouldn't be happy to see me.

I glare at her, anger rising in me at the confusion she's putting through me before raising the bed knob to strike her. One swing. Thats all I need. I good swing to her temple will take her down. But she would most likely be back shortly after. After my blood.

She frowns for a moment and every muscle in my body tightens, ready for a struggle but puts her hands up in defence. "Peeta, it's me. It's Katniss. Its not real Peeta. It's an episode. Please. Come back to me. Don't let them take you from me again. Fight it!" She doesn't sound like she's telling a lie. Slowly I start to lower the knob, tilting my head like a curious dog _"Its not real Peeta" _ What does she mean?

I drop the knob as her arms wrap around me, a feeling coming over me like a ton of bricks. Everything shimmers brightly, almost like a light blaring in my eyes before dulling down. "Katniss.." The shock of what I was about to do hits me and I fall to my knees, Katniss falling with me, her arms still tight round me as she hushes me.

"Shh. It's okay. You're okay now. " I could have really hurt her or even killed her and she's here comforting me?

"I'm sorry. Katniss, I'm so sorry. I knew it wasn't real but I couldn't fight it. They haven't happen for so long.. I thought they had stopped. I'm so sorry" I can't think of anything better to say to her other then "Sorry"

Later that day, my mood hasn't lifted. As always, Just when you think things can't get any worse for you. They do. I needed to get out of the house a bit, my mind replaying the events that almost took place in the bedroom. So I took a walk in the wood. Stupid choice number one for the afternoon. I hadn't wondered far (the woods and I not being very compatible with one another) but on the way back I managed to get my leg caught, falling to my knees the metal of my prosthetic grinding to a halt and locking up, my other making hard contact with the solid dirt under me. I sat against a tree for about an hour, waiting for the pain to ease and I was able to get to my feet again. Two years with a metal leg under my belt means my prosthetic was no problem. There was nothing broken (other then my pride. Lucky no one was around to see me.) But there was a rather nasty looking gash over my knee and what felt to be a little bit of a sprain in my ankle.

Stupid choice number two didn't happen until after I got myself to the bakery. The kitchen had been finished about two days ago and I finally thought it would be a good time to give the new ovens a try. Everything had been going well. Dough was made and rising for cheese buns and there were already two loaves in the ovens. The ovens were running well as well as the rest of the were only a few more things that needed to be done, little cosmetic things like another coat of paint here or a polish up there. It was only a few days away from opening.

I hear the bell of the bakery door ring just as the buzzer for the ovens goes off. I decide it must be one of the others who helped with the bakery and set about cleaning my hands before limping over to the oven. Just as I open the oven door I hear her voice ring out though the bakery to the kitchen as flash backs start to play in my mind from my episode this morning. My body freezes for a moment before I call back to her, reaching into the oven for the loaf tin (Hear comes bad choice number two) Just as she enters the bakery kitchen, my hand connecting with the red hot tin the bread was baking in with my bare hand.

The tin clatters to the floor, as Katniss comes to my side, a wet cloth already in her hands. I could have hurt her this morning and she is still taking care of me. without thinking, I wrap my arms around her, burring my face in her hair and holding her tight. The day has been hell but some how having her here with me now seems to make everything better (well. Maybe not EVERYTHING) I can't help the light sobs as I hold her tight and once again, shes there hushing me, rocking me like a child, her fingers running through my hair.

I don't know what I would have done if I had lost her during the games or the war. Correction. I HAD lost her during the quell and the war, but I found her again or, she found me. I wasn't about to let her go now. With out thinking the words slip from my lips "I love you, I'm sorry" I didn't mean to say it but I felt a little better saying it.

For a moment she halts in her movements, her fingers still in my hair before she starts to rock again "I know. Shhh.. I know" After another few silent moments, the only sound being her gentle hushing, she moves away from me to move to the ovens, turning them off before guiding me out of the kitchen and then the bakery. "I think its time to go home." It's a simple statement but I know it holds a lot more in it then just leaving. I nod lightly, the wet cloth still wrapped around my hand.

By the time we get back to the victors village and 'home' It's hard for Her to miss my limp as we walk, she sighs lightly with a soft chuckle "I can't leave you alone for a moment, Can I Peeta?"

I give a weak chuckle along with a small shrug "What can I say?" What can I say? I know she's joking my I can't help but think she's right. We spilt up for a spilt moment in the quell and all hell breaks loose. Then We separate in order to try and take the Capitol by surprise and we almost burn to a crisp. I can't help thinking to Katniss and what she lost that day, my good hand finding hers.

Once inside, she sits me down on the couch in the front room a fire already burning while she vanishes from the room. She must have set it up before coming to the bakery. There is a nice smell in the air and I can't help myself from relaxing where I sit. She comes back about five minutes later with a little pot in her hands. She sits on her knees in front of me, taking my burned hand in hers gently and removing the no longer wet cloth before looking at me with a small wince on her face. "I'm sorry.." She says "This is going to sting a moment but it wont last long. Its the same stuff I was sent when I was burnt in our first games. Was the best thing in the world at the time." with out warning or letting me dwell on the imposing pain she slathers a dollop of the ointment over my burned palm. I can't help the small hiss of pain, air rushing past my teeth before the sting eases into a pleasant soothing.

Maybe the day hadn't been to good but it looks like the night wont be so unpleasant.

* * *

So. I felt like the story needed just a little more Peeta in it so I gave a chapter to him. I'm not to sure how it went or if it is any good but what's done is done. Please feel free to let me know what you all think of this chapter. There may be more Peeta to come. There are surely more book chapters to come! I'm thinking of writing a couple chapters of nothing more then book pages that Haymitch wrote out (After all, he did write about 23 of them if I can remember right!)  
Sorry I haven't been posting as often as I have wanted. There was a whole heap of stuff going on and then my laptop was having heating and internet troubles but everything seems to have calmed down alot so I am hoping to get back to posting at least two or three times a week now.  
As always. Love love love you all!

-SparrowEverlark!


	7. Maysilee Donna

Peeta and I sit in the warm living room, the fire roaring gently, its soft glow surrounding us like a blanket. The pages of our book that Haymitch had graced us with, resting in my lap. There were now 23 in total. I couldn't imagine what remembering 23 years of tributes could and had done to him but it was no wonder we hadn't seen him for a well over a week.

Peeta and I had been putting it off for quite some time. Neither of us felt right reading the pages Haymitch submitted, feeling it a strange invasion into his privacy in some way. It took us a week to get the courage to even look at the names he had written on the first few pages. It was the name of the tribute on the first page that finally had our hands itching to get a better insight into Haymitch Abernathy.

I looked to Peeta. He had his eyes closed as he rest back against the couch, his head tilted back. If I didn't know him better, I would have thought him to be asleep. I look back to the pages in my lap, my eyes running over the name at the top once more. "Are you sure we should read these? We could just add them to the book. No need to pry..." I can't help asking for what may be the hundredth time.

Peetas head tilts in my direction, his eyes still closed as he rests his burned hand in his lap. "We don't have to, Katniss but I'm sure Haymitch wouldn't have given them to us if he had a problem with us reading them." He is right, of course. But I can't help but think these thoughts. Haymitch had to sit by and watch as these kids all took place in the games, each time growing close to the children, advising them on how to best stay alive... Only to have to sit and watch as they were all massacred. Children, some times as young as twelve and thirteen are butchered by teenagers far older and larger then them and he can't do anything to stop it.

I run my fingers over the messy, drunken letters on the parchment as I take a breath, steeling my nerves as I read the name.

**"Maysilee Donna**

I Don't remember ever really knowing Maysilee before the games We went to school together, along with the other tributes of district 12 that year. During our time in the capitol we kept mostly to ourselves. With so many kids in the quell, we couldn't afford to make friends. I did my best to think of them, of Maysilee as nothing more than another body in the way of getting home.

But over time I couldn't help but find her.. Interesting... Her blond hair, her blue eyes.. I should have done better to help her in the arena but I didn't want to be the one to have to kill her if it came down to us and she didn't want to have to kill me.

During our time training in the capitol we were (Along with the other two from our district) the only thing we really had left of home. She would offer me tips when passing in the halls of our apartment or I would make suggestions during a meal. We didn't want to make friends, it didn't mean we were horrid to one another.

When we got to the arena, Everyone stood stunned, looking around themselves. I used that moment to get to the cornucopia and get what I needed. Just as I shoulder a back pack and get my fingers wrapped around the handle of a knife, I see some movement to my left. I look up, knife poised to strike when I fine her standing there, blue eyes wide, nimble fingers wrapped around the length of a blow gun, the other a nice number of darts. She seems to relax for a moment, seeing it was me standing there and not one of the careers waiting for her blood to spill.

We exchange a small nod between us before darting off in opposite directions. That was the last time I saw Maysilee for quite some time. When I did finally see her again, she was there almost like an angel sent from the heavens themselves. I had been cornered by three of the careers and managed to take out two with no more then my little knife but the third had skipped past my thoughts while I was distracted and managed to get the better hand over me. I had resigned myself to the fact I would not be going back to District 12 to my mother, brother or my girlfriend when suddenly he just fell down dead. I turned on my heel to see who it was that wanted my death to themselves and found Maysilee standing there, her blowgun ready to attack again if needed.

We decided to stick together until the time was right. We still didn't want to be the final two if we could help it, but both of us wanted to go home. After about a week together, travelling to nowhere special, she felt it was right to split up once again. Our time together had come to an end. We shook hands and she ran off in the opposite direction to what I had planned to go. She was gone only what I could say felt like seconds in the arena but would have been no more then five minutes before I heard the scream. I knew it was her the moment it rang in my ears.

I don't remember much about that moment, I think my brain had started to shut down. My feet were pounding at the hard dirt, carrying me to her. I got there just in time to see the flock of birds. They were pink. I remember thinking they looked kind of pretty... As far as birds went. Then it happen. one took a swoop at Maysilee. I ran into the clearing, calling like a wild man, my arms flailing in an attempt to frighten the birds away but I was already to late. One had punctured her throat with its sharp beak, that's when I realised the "pretty" birds were nothing more then another of the game makers many toys in the arena, another mutt designed to keep us living tributes on our toes and kill us.

I held her while she died. I didn't have it in me to kill her. I should have. at the least I could have stopped her suffering a slow death while she bled out. She lay with her head in my lap, our hands joined as we just talked. She told me of her twin sister, I told her of my little brother. I stayed with her the whole time, just holding her hand. I will never forget the moment her life finally slipped away. She thanked me for staying with her before the life slipped from her blue eyes, her grip on my hand letting up before her hand simply dropped away.

I didn't want to make any friends while I was in the arena. But some how in the end, that was exactly what I did. I will never forget Maysilee."

I take a small, shaky breath, looking back over to Peeta. His eyes are calm, but I can see all the emotions playing in the blue depths before following his gaze in the direction of Haymitches house. Haymitch had seemed like nothing more then a cocky brat of a teenager when we had watched the footage from his games but that wasn't really the case. I knew how he felt in that moment of Maysilees death because I had felt it with Rue. Holding someone you have grown to care about as you feel the life slip away from them is horrible.

It seemed Haymitch and I weren't so different after all.

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Okay. So one of who knows how many of Haymitches page contributions to the book. It is currently 4:37am here in not so sunny right now Australia and I think I have been writing since some where around 11:30pm the night before. It took me a while to get the words out that I wanted. I knew what I wanted to achieve in this chapter but for some reason the words just kept getting stuck. Just when I started to think of giving up for the night BAM! It hit me like a ton of bricks.  
If you feel I have done something wrong or something happen in my story that didn't happen in the original three books then please feel free to let me know. Not much was really said about Haymitches games so I simply filled in the blanks with my ideas of what could have happen.  
Not to sure about if I will really include Peeta and Katniss into future Haymitch page chapters or not but I guess I will see how it goes.  
As always guys, please read and review. I really need to know what you guys are thinking about how this story is unfolding now that it is starting to take better shape!

Thinking of starting a new story (Not sure if it will be multi chaptered or a one shot) about Haymitch and the second quarter quell.  
Love love love you all!

-SparrowEverlark.


	8. Theo & Alhana

**I own nothing to do with this story other then the characters this chapter is based on "Theo and Alhana"**

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"**Theo and Alhana.**

Theo and Alhana were the first tributes I had mentored after winning my games. I can still remember Reaping day, their faces when their names were called from the hundreds of slips of paper in the bowls. Theo was shy of turning 19, having been reaped about three or four weeks prier to his birthday. He was strong but his arrogance far exceeded anything else to do with the kid. He had an ego the size of any hunger games arena.

Having made it his whole reaping life, virtually untouched by the games, He felt he was better then most others whose names had been called years before his own. The odds were always in his favour, as far as he felt. (right up until his last year that was)

Alhana had been something different to what I had normally seen when it came to tributes from district 12. She was quiet, timid and stunning to look at, at only 14 years old. She was a small girl, standing at only at about five feet tall Her grey eyes seemed to know a wisdom well beyond her years. She had grown up in the seam, a life far different to that of her district partner but she had a fight in her that you wouldn't expect from someone so young and small.

During dinner that first night on the train to the capitol Alhana had been quiet and a little withdrawn, her grey eyes down cast and never met my own or the bright, always happy eyes of our chaperone, Elisha. Elisha was the typical Capitol woman. I don't remember ever seeing her with out make up. She always had this almost neon green wig and matching make-up, no matter what colour she wore for the day. She was never in a bad mood, always a smile on her face. Then again, which capitol resident wouldn't smile when it came to the games? Elisha had a chance of another victor to her name.. Another since me anyway.

The next day, the four of us were sitting at the table as breakfast was being served. Theo dug in, no intentions of using any manners he may have, Alhana sat for a moment, just looking at her plate before taking a mouthful. Her eyes lit up in that moment as she looked at me and gave me her first smile since reaping day. It was nice to see.

"We should talk about what is going to happen and what to do once we get to the capitol" I said after taking a long sip of my coffee. Something I would not have survived the last year without thanks to the liquor hidden in the dark liquid. My drinking was only two or three mixed with coffee in the mornings at that point.

"I don't need your help" said Theo smugly. "I know what I'm going to do. I will be just fine without your drunken help." I was younger then him, What did I know about the Hunger Games?

I remember flinching at his words, my retort resting on the tip of my tongue before Alhana's voice broke through "What do we... I need to do? Tell me everything I will be in for the moment I'm off this train... Please.." She took a bite of toast, silver eyes glimmering at me.

I turned my attention to the girl, knowing if I could help either of them it would be her. "When we get to the capitol there will be people everywhere. We will have to start working on what we will do when it comes to interviews. That's when you will be able to get sponsors. The more you have the better your chance in the arena" I explain to her. I was a little lost as to what it was I was meant to be doing. This was my first time being a mentor.

She nod lightly as she thought for a moment "Interviews. So I'm going to have to talk to these people? Okay.." She didn't sound happy but she was willing to do what she could. I admired the small girl. We continued to talk over everything that was going to happen while in the Capitol. Training, the stylists. Just any little thing I can think of that I feel she need to know.

By the time we got to the capitol I felt I knew the girl well. I told her what my mentor told me. Hide your greatest strength from the other tributes. Don't let them see what you can do. The whole time, I never once spoke to Theo. I forgot he was even there unless he was boasting about himself. He was apparently fast and good with knives. I didn't really care though. He made his choice on the train.

Interviews came and went and I felt Alhana did a good job with them. She was very natural. I had the stylists back off when it came to make up for Alhana showing off her youth. She showed her intelligence when asked about her opinions of the games, shocking everyone when she came out with "The idea of putting kids in a large cut off place where they have to fight and kill in order of hoping to be the victor is far from humane. The idea that THIS is what was thought up to keep the people of penam from rebelling once again shows that maybe someone doesn't know what they were doing at the time. Starving the districts then making them kill one another once a year is BEGGING for a new rebellion."

I feared she may have done more damage then good for herself when the room sat still and silent. After a minute of silence the audience broke into a loud round of applause. She came back stage, her face as red as the dress she wore.

Time seemed to fly by and before I knew it, I was saying my fair wells to my first ever tributes, promising to do my best with the sponsors back here. As always, Theo declined, stating he wouldn't need any sponsor help. Alhana thanked me and even wrapped her arms around me. Telling me I reminded her of her older brother. She asked me to return her token, a little leather, braided band around her wrist to her family if anything should happen to her and she was good at it.

Theo hit all my low expectations of him. He was killed two days into the games during the evening announcements of the tributes that died that day. His death came from the hands and knife of a little, scrawny kid from district 6, she was nothing but skin and bones and was really good at the art of camouflage. He never saw it coming until the knife was down to the hilt in his neck.

Alhana impressed me. I was kept on my toes with sponsors who wanted to send her food and water when she needed it. She was never left longer then she had to be for anything she needed. I thought the games were over for her on the fourth night. She had had a run in with one of the careers of district 4 and had a long gash over her stomach from a knife after getting caught in a fishing net. The girl from 4 put up a good fight, so did Alhana. After she was cut I thought it was the end for sure. She played dead as the girl from four hovered over her, gloating at the death, not paying attention to the lack of canon boom.

At the last moment she grabbed at the girls ankle, pulling it out from under her before beating her head with a rock. It was messy but it was needed and the capitol crowd ate it up. They loved it!

Alhana made it to the second last day. The games lasted about a week in total. She was killed when the last two members of the career pack found her. They wasted no time in taking her out and they enjoyed every minute of it. One of them shot her with a blow dart that they dipped into some toxin that paralysed her instantly. She fell to the ground, hitting her head on a rock and passing out. She came two an hour later, to two males hovering over her. I could do nothing as I had to stand and watch as they took turns in having their own fun with her. She couldn't move, couldn't fight them off as they each took turns, rubbing her face in the dirt as they treated her like one of the prostitutes on the darkened corners of the capitol streets.

I could see it in her face by the time they were done with her. She didn't want to live any more. She didn't want to win, didn't want to live with what they had done with her for all of penam to see. She was lucky. They had no intention of keeping her alive. There could only be one winner after all. They spent another hour teasing her, cutting her skin with their knives. Nothing life threatening, just painful, each cut she thought would bring her death but it only bought her more pain. It was three hours after they first found her that the biggest one, A boy named Emerson from district 2 slit her throat, the smirk on his face, clearly showing how much he was enjoying her gagging on her blood as she attempted in vein to try and fill her lung with air that couldn't get past the severed wind pipe.

Alhana will always hold a special place in my heart, she was the first person I had to coach, the first person to rely on my knowledge and to this day I feel that If I had just tried harder. Enforced more of what I knew, Maybe she would have seen the dart coming, that she wouldn't have been sexually assaulted and may have had a better chance at winning. "

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Okay so I thought I would give it a go writing a chapter soully by Haymitch. I personally feel it came out good but still has some room for improvements. In general I am happy with this chapter but would love to know your ideas on the matter. When it came to Alhana's rape, I was gonna go more into detail on that but after about an hour of thinking it over I decided against it due to it being a rather touchy subject for lots of people. I hope the way I DID handle it is okay with you all!  
Thank you all for reading. Please review!  
Love love love you all!  
-Sparrow.


	9. Rue

**I own nothing to do with the original books**

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I give a small whistle, the simple, four little notes that she showed me, the mocking jays around me, over head, mimicing the tune as I wait for the reply to come. Silence. I try again, my heart speeding up a little as I am replied by silence once more. She should be done in her task by now. Why wasn't she replying? Something wasn't right.

I start back towards our meeting point. About half way there I hear it and I give a small sigh of relief. She's okay. My stride becomes slower, less panicked as I make my way through the underbrush of the forest before it cuts through the air. An ear piercing scream. In an instant, my blood runs cold, my heart stopping in my chest. My feet take off, working on there own as I thrash my way through the plants and into our little clearing.

I stand there for a moment, trying to get my brain to work again. What's happen?! She's laying, trapped under a net, small arms and legs thrashing. She must have set of a snare, set by one of the other tributes. My lungs deflate, the breath I was holding leaving as I kneel down beside her and start working on freeing her from the net.

I no sooner get her free of the netting when it comes whizzing by my head, a small thud ringing out as I let out a scream of my own.

"RUE!" I sit up with dizzying speed, my heart thundering in my chest, a light sheen of cold sweat covering my form from head to toe. The covers are tossed back, whether from the heat in the room or from my tossing and turning in my sleep, I'm unsure.

My arms stretching out to my sides a little, finding the bed is empty again, as it has been for the last three mornings. I give a small sigh, my feet swinging off the edge of the bed as I sit up. I give another yawn before raising to my feet, nimble fingers, gliding through my hair in an attempt to de-tangle it. It doesn't help. Giving up on my hair, I wonder down the stairs and into the living room.

It was only a week into summer, So the fire place had gone unused for some time now, giving the room an almost lifeless feel to it. Our book had about 30 entries into it already thanks to the tributes Haymitch had contributed to it and it had been a little while since anyone had made a post. Life went on as life does.

The bakery had been open for a couple weeks which meant he was almost never there when I awoke in the morning. He was there now. I could see it now. He would be in the back kitchen, kneading dough, ready to put it in the oven while pulling a tray of buns out. Thats where I was going for breakfast, like every morning for the last week.

Peeta even had a couple of the older kids from the old district 12 working for him. One was a scrawny little thing of a girl. Her name was Avery. I remembered her from school so many years ago. She was about mine and Peeta's age. I think a year younger to be exact. I don't remember her ever being this thin. Then again, I don't think any of us who have returned to 12 are really the same as we use to be. I know Peeta and I are FAR from the same people we were. The other was a thirteen year old from the seam named Felix. Peeta had been teaching him and soon enough he became Peeta's apprentice, even showing Peeta a thing or two. He was short for his age (thanks to life with not enough of anything) but he was smart and learnt things fast.

Avery use to be this "voluptuous" young woman. She was about two inches shorter then me but looked every bit a merchants child as Peeta. She always had a rosy hue in her cheeks and a smile on her face. But now she was nothing more then a ghost of the girl she once was. She was now gaunt, eyes hollow, the bones of her cheeks standing out from the pale skin stretched over them. Like Peeta, Avery had lost her family in the fire bombings. Both parents and a younger brother and sister. I remember her saying once "I use to wish Raya and Luka would just vanish... but I never meant it"

I knew why Peeta had picked these two over all the others who had come to him. One night while we were laying in bed I had asked him. I had woken from another dream in a fit of flying fists and neither of us was ready to go back to sleep. "They both have seen their share of pain" He had said "I know there are alot of people who have lost their friends and family but Avery seems to still suffer more then anyone. She's like us, I feel that we can help her heal too." I couldn't do anything other offer him a small smile, resting my head on his chest as his arms wrapped around my shoulders. He saw himself in her. She was as broken as we were.

As I walked into the bakery, the bell ringing through the main room, I give a polite smile and nod to a woman and her daughter, the little girl giving a small wave with a bright smile of her own. I give a small greeting to Avery, not wanting to bother her while she is with a customer, a stout man, I don't think he originated from 12 but he was here now.

I go back to the kitchen, sure enough, Peeta is kneading away at some dough. I can't help but smile as I lean on the door frame watching him. As always, as he pushes the tray of new loaves to be, into the oven, he pulls out another with nice, steaming hot cheese buns. He knows me to well. "Bad dreams again?" He knows me a bit to well.

I give a small nod as he turns from the ovens, placing the tray down on the counter "Nothing out of the normal..." I give a small shrug, trying to play it off as no big deal.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you when you woke up"

"It's fine, we can't always be attached at the hip. Besides, the bakery needs you more. I will go hunting and be fine." I had taken to keeping my bow and arrows at the bakery, tucked out of the way in a little cupboard Peeta had given me seeing as the bakery was right on the edge of the market, close to the woods.

By the time I get back from my hunt the sun is starting to head down, the first licks of orange and pinks starting to seep into the blue of the sky. I see Avery at the counter, taking down stock for the next day, Felix flitting back and forth out the back as he packs everything away for the night. Seeing Felix out the back meant Peeta had left for the night.

I make my way to the victors village, the thought of the little street of unused houses, needing a new name crossing my mind for a moment or two before I see the lights on in the house, glowing warm and inviting. Home.

"Peeta? I'm home" I call as I push the door open slowly, letting it close lightly behind me with a small click of the knob. I drop my bow and arrows, having wanted to get right home to Peeta, I hadn't left them at the bakery like I normally would have before making the journey home with the young man with the blond curly hair.

I hear a chair, scrap across the floor of the kitchen before his voice rings forth "In here."

I shrug off my coat and slip my boots from my feet, nudging them off to the side and out of the way before heading for the door way of the kitchen, only to be halted by the man I share a bed with. He has a strange look on his face and I notice the odd lack of flour for someone who works in a bakery "What have you been up to? You are oddly clean for this time of day. When did you come home?" A small ounce of panic sets in as I look him over once more "Did you have an episode at the bakery today?"

He shakes his head as he takes my hands in his, his eyes taking on a strange gleam as he looks at me "No no.. I came home a little earlier then normal. Nothing is wrong.. I have been... Um.. Painting. I had an idea in my head and didn't want to lose so I came home and been painting ever since." His body blocks the door way to the kitchen and I can't get even a glance into the small room.

Normally he would paint in the living room or up in what was the study now turned art studio, so why was he in the kitchen and why wasn't he letting me in? "What was it you were painting?" I shift my bag of kills, a rabbit and three ducks, from one shoulder to the other, trying my best at hiding my curiosity as best I can.

"Nothing really. Just... Promise you wont get mad at me. Okay?" I blink a little, now starting to worry, what could he have painted that would make me mad at him?

I push past him and stride over to the table, the wind in my lungs leaving in a large, heavy burst, as if I had just been hit. The bag falls from my shoulder, but I don't hear the thud as it connects with the hard floor. I hear nothing as my eyes follow all the lines of the face painted on our book parchment and I know exactly why he didn't want me to get mad.

"Normally I wouldn't force you to write about anyone Katniss but I really feel you need to write about her. It will help you! You have been dreaming about her far to often lately, maybe this will help you get the closure you need!"

I know what he is saying is true. Normally he would allow me to pick who we write about. He would let me take my time, find the right words I need to get my thoughts and feelings out onto the paper but this time. This time he was telling me who I was to write about. I had no choice in the matter.

I didn't know what to do, what to say. I just stood there, looking at the picture of the small girl, taken far to soon all thanks to the capitol. Peeta was making me think about her, He wanted me to write down all my interment thoughts about her. No. She's mine. I do not want to share her with him or anyone else!

Without a word I walk past him, our shoulders connecting in the door way as I make my way upstairs, the bathroom door slamming behind me.

About an hour and a half, one hot bath and a lot of thinking later, I make my way from the bathroom, dark hair still dripping slightly as I follow the smell of dinner to the kitchen. No sooner do I enter the room, Peeta turns around, his eyes full of grievance. He was only trying to do something to help me and I repaid his kindness by storming off and giving him the cold shoulder.

Before he can make his own apology, I hold up a hand, silencing him before he has a chance to start "I'm sorry. It was a really nice thing you did for me, I shouldn't have reacted the way I did. I had no right to." Before he can say any more on the matter I give him a small smile "Whats on the menu?"

He blinks his cobalt hues a moment before snapping to "Rabbit and roast veg. Nothing special"

"Sounds and smells great. I'll set the table"

I agree to write about her after dinner. My stomach doing flips at what to write about her. Peeta says he will be with me the whole time and assures me that nothing will can get any worse from me writing about her and he is right. She's dead. Nothing worse can happen to her now.

Dinner passes by silently. only small talk mixing between us at the table, my mind still racing on what to write. Where to start. After the dinner dishes are cleared away, the two of use sit at the table, the parchment and the book we have so far, resting, scattered around us as I look at the blank page before me. Nothing more then the small painting Peeta did earlier in the day resting in the bottom right corner.

I take a deep breath, a swarm of hornets zipping around in my stomach as I grip the pen a little tighter. I jump lightly as Peetas hand grasps my free one before sparing a glance at him. He gives me a small nod "You can do it. Its okay. Write like you're telling me about her"

I give a small nod before pressing the pen to the paper

**Rue.**

_"When I first saw her, my thoughts went straight to my sister, Prim and at how young she was. She shouldn't have been there. Fighting for her life against others who were twice, even three times her size._

_I didn't think she had a chance when I first saw her and maybe it compelled me a little, the similarity to Prim that made me want to protect her. She had surprised me when I watched one day during training as she stole Catos knife and climbed up to hide in the banisters in the ceiling of the training arena. I don't think Cato knew it was her. She climbed up with such ease._

_She saved my life while we were in the arena, I had been stung from some tracker jackers when trying to avoid the career pack. She followed me, made sure I didn't hurt myself to much before patching me up. She was so little and knew so much._

_Rue was special. I remember her standing there, hands raised at her sides, standing on tip toes and thinking that at any moment, she was going to take off with the mocking jays._

_I still remember the fear in her eyes when she knew she was dying. I held her tight as I rewarded he, her dying wish. It was the least I could do. I sang to her softly, song of the birds around us dying down as they listened close. I sang to her "Under the willow" It was Prims favourite song when she was scared so I thought it would help Rue in her dying moments and I think it did. Some of the fear in her brown eyes melted away as she lay there, her breathing growing shallower with each intake of air. _

_All I could think of in the moment that she slipped away was how unfair it was. We were here for the entertainment of those in the capitol, for president Snow. I didn't know what kind of funeral she would be given, or even if she would get one when she got home so I did the only thing I could think of to show my love and respect for her. I surrounded her in a ring of small white flowers, putting some in her hair. She looked so peaceful. No longer in pain, no longer having to fight for life. She could rest now. _

_I stood back, just past the edge of the clearing she lay in and watched as the air crafts came and picked her limp body up, taking her away. Knowing it was the last I would ever see of the peaceful, sleeping girl that came from district 11."_

That night, I lay curled with Peeta and for the first time in over a week, the dreams I have of Rue are pleasant. I see her smiling, joyful face as she whistles her little four note song to me and I whistle it back. Peeta was right. Writing about her did seem to help. I should never have doubted him in the first place.

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He guys. I am so sorry I became slack with posting. I'm doing my best with the free time I have. Its been a little crazy here the last couple of weeks. I finally go my butt in gear and got my Lerners permit, So I have been learning to drive on the crazy australian roads. I had most of this typed and more or less ready to post but my daughter had a little accident and needed crazy medical help (So I thought after slipping into panicking mother mode) She fell off the kitchen table (after being told to get off and stay off 200 times that day) and ended up splitting the back of her head open. After a fair bit of blood, sweat and tears (The later two coming from me more then my 2 year old) I was able to get the bleeding to stop. Thanks to my dad.  
No excuses though. I have started a new story called "Life and Love" and Hope to have that up and going too so please feel free to take a look at that prologue and as always. Please review.

If you feel something in this chapter is wrong, feel free to let me know. Please do not, however, message my telling me that my facts are all wrong and my characters are not being played as they were in the books and that I should just quit writing and close down my account.  
I would just like to say that not much is given out about the book Peeta and Katniss write and I am writing what I think happen and goes into the book. As for how I am writing Katniss ad Peeta. I am sure that there is a HUGE difference between Pre Mocking Jay Everlark and Post Mocking Jay Everlark. Do not tell me how to write my stories unless you know what my plans are.

Thank you for the rant.  
-Sparrow.


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